Of Kittypets and Their Inconsistencies
by EmberskyofShadowClan
Summary: When a kittypet and her kits are taken in to ThunderClan, most cats are grateful to have such promising new arrivals. But could their presence change everything, especially the happiness of our favorite couple? A Cloud/Bright multichap, with plenty of Daisy thrown in.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! This is the first edited chapter, as of Feb. 2015. Hope you enjoy – more is coming soon!**

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The voice was very loud, very irritating, and seemingly endless. "_All right_. I want a hunting patrol sent out… how about you lead it, Thornclaw? You can choose your cats."

Brambleclaw, the ThunderClan deputy, was sending out patrols _again_. But somehow, while doing so, he managed to wake up Cloudtail - the heaviest sleeper in the clan, for StarClan's sake! According to Brightheart, anyway. Besides, he had been on a patrol last night. Sometimes Cloudtail wondered – and he wasn't alone in these thoughts – if Brambleclaw was trying to drive the clan to exhaustion.

As Thornclaw poked his head into the warrior's den, to search for the unlucky few to accompany him, Cloudtail drew his tail in and flattened his ears. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, Thornclaw wouldn't notice him. But the small movement only drew the warrior's attention, and he called out, "Cloudtail! You're on my hunting patrol!"

Cloudtail raised his head and glared at him through tired eyes, hoping his gaze would set the tom on fire. Thornclaw, choosing to be oblivious, also summoned Squirrelflight and Spiderleg for the patrol.

When his death-glare failed miserably, Cloudtail sighed. "Fine. I'm coming."

"Hurry up," Thornclaw meowed. "Or else Brambleclaw will have my tail."

On that note, he padded out of the den, with Squirrelflight and Spiderleg following dutifully. Cloudtail sighed once more, much to the irritation of his mate. Also just waking, she flicked her tail at him. "Better go, before they leave without you." The words were stern but good-natured, and Brightheart had a constant gleam of gentle humor in her remaining eye that prevented Cloudtail from spitting back a retort.

His three fellow patrollers were waiting at the camp entrance. When they noticed him approaching, Thornclaw waved his tail in greeting and Squirrelflight yelled, "Come _on_, you lazy furball!" Then, muttering to herself, she added, "Some cats are just _so slow_."

Cloudtail had long since learned to ignore the biting remarks of Firestar's sarcastic daughter. She sent little insults the way of her clanmates on a daily basis, and most cats just opted to ignore her until she forgot what she was angry about in the first place. In that way, Squirrelflight was like a fire: hot and blazing, but she quickly burned out into harmless ashes. And her bright ginger pelt only amplified the effect.

Although, Cloudtail did feel like pointing out that, if she didn't have a patrol, Squirrelflight had been known to sleep until nearly sunhigh on a regular basis. But before he could decide on whether or not to voice his thoughts, Thornclaw interrupted, likely saving the white tom from a painful clawing. "_Thank you_, Squirrelflight. Now _let's go_, before all the prey dies of old age!" He beckoned the group to follow him out of the camp.

Cloudtail's irritation at Squirrelflight and her hypocrisy were quickly forgotten, to be replaced with pride as he caught two, three, then four pieces of prey. Thornclaw had decided to hunt near the twoleg-place border, where a recent patrol had found and mentioned a nest of starlings, rare in the chillier days of Leaf-fall.

The sun was beginning to set – night came annoyingly early this time of the year – and the patrol was gathering their prey and preparing to head back, satisfied with the day's haul, when a strange sound penetrated the air. Cloudtail spun around, trying to locate the noise, but Spiderleg was faster. Peering behind a nearby clump of thorny bushes, he cried, "Look over here! I found three kits!" His calls caused the entire patrol to dart over and observe the kits.

"I wonder where their mother is," Squirrelflight commented, looking to the others for ideas.

"And I wonder _who _their mother is," Cloudtail agreed, their previous quarrel now long forgotten.

"I wasn't at the last gathering, but you all were. Was there news of rogues or loners in the area? Or kittypets?" Spiderleg looked as lost as the rest of them.

"No," Thornclaw answered for them all. "But maybe –"

"Wait! Stop! You don't understand!" Cloudtail, Squirrelflight, Spiderleg, and Thornclaw all turned as one to the new arrival. It was a dainty, rather pretty cream-colored she-cat who didn't carry the scent of any clan. She shrunk back a bit at the sudden gazes, but added with considerably less force than before, "Don't hurt them!"

Squirrelflight, ever sharp, was the first to understand. "These are your kits," she meowed. "And you think we were going to hurt them."

"Or take them, or kill them," she she-cat said meekly. "I don't know the ways of you forest cats, only that you're all vicious killers who eat the bones of house-cats."

"Eat bones?" Spiderleg snorted. "_Honestly_," he muttered.

"It's what the house-cats tell us! Although, I don't think any of them have actually _seen _a forest cat before."

"Wait," Thornclaw interrupted her, as the she-cat opened her mouth to say more. "So you're _not _a kittypet?"

"If that's what you call house-cats, then no. _I _don't live with nofurs. I live in a barn, near the horses, hunting mice." She lifted her head, as though a barn were the most prestigious place to live. All her former fright had evaporated. _Ha, _Cloudtail thought. _She should try living in a forest. _Then_ let's see what she thinks of her barn. She doesn't know what she's missing!_

"Or," she corrected herself sadly. "I _lived _in a barn."

"Nofurs?" Spiderleg asked, still trying to figure out the unfamiliar word.

"It's what some cats call twolegs," Cloudtail told him in a whisper.

"What are you doing here, in ThunderClan territory, then?" Squirrelflight's fur was spiked with suspicion.

"Well," the cream she-cat began, as though preparing to recite a long tale. "In the barn, the nofurs take away your kits as soon as they're old enough. It happened to Floss when she had her litter, and I didn't want the same to happen to my kits. So I left. I found myself over there, across the river." She flicked her tail towards the river on the WindClan border, some ways away.

"But the cats there chased me the moment they found us. I'm not sure what they would've done had we been caught, but that's why I believed you to be vicious, fierce forest cats. But anyway, the moment I got across the river, they stopped and just glared at us. I thought this place was uninhabited, and I left the kits here to go and hunt, when you found them."

Cloudtail found himself believing her story, and feeling pity for the poor she-cat.

However, not all of the other cats shared his view. "_Of course _they stopped chasing you!" Spiderleg exclaimed. "You're in ThunderClan's territory now, and those scrawny WindClan cats were too cowardly to face us! And what in StarClan's name makes you think that we _aren't _the vicious forest cats of legend? Why, we ought to chase you and your kittypet kits out right now, before you contaminate the clan with your softness! And –"

Cloudtail sighed loudly and obviously. "Spiderleg?"

"Huh?" the tom stopped his spiel, and seemed confused, with a What-Was-I-Talking-About-In-The-First-Place sort of look on his face.

"_Kindly _be quiet."

The black, spindly-legged tom was clearly affronted. "But she's _trespassing_! We can't very well let her come back to camp with us!"

"And why ever not?" For the first time, Squirrelflight gave her opinion on the matter, seeming oddly levelheaded for being… well, Squirrelflight. "It _is _against the warrior code to refuse to help kits, you know."

The cream-colored she-cat was sitting still, watching the others argue out her fate. "Please don't hurt us!" She repeated the phrase from before, and seemed to have rediscovered the fear she had felt at the beginning. Cloudtail felt a flicker of annoyance at her helplessness, and apparently so did Squirrelflight.

"Be _quiet! _You're not helping! And don't you use that I'm-So-Innocent-And-Scared act with us! Really! We're not going to kill you or anything!"

_There _was the Squirrelflight they all knew. Though Cloudtail did feel a bit sorry for the she-cat. She was in a strange place, with strange cats trying to decide what to do with her. Not to mention that she had kits to protect, as well. It obviously wasn't _all _an act, although Cloudtail suspected that that wide-eyed innocence had helped her escape from trouble in the past. "What's your name?" Cloudtail decided to stop referring to her as 'the she-cat' in his thoughts.

"I'm Daisy," the she-cat meowed, now with only the tiniest waver to her voice, where, before, it had been trembling as much as she had.

Thornclaw meowed decisively, "We'll take her to Firestar. He can decide. And before you argue –" he stopped Spiderleg's protest with a flick of his tail. "_I'm _the senior warrior here. We take her to Firestar, and that's final."

The black warrior only nodded, not bothering to protest. Cloudtail felt a sort of satisfaction; the younger tom's hostility had always bothered him much more than Squirrelflight's spur-of-the-moment insults.

"…Thank you, I think," Daisy said hesitantly, glancing back and forth between the cats.

"Thank us when Firestar decides what to do with you, and not before," Squirrelflight told her gruffly, but there was a hint of softness in her voice, as though she felt bad for her earlier remark. This often happened with the fiery warrior. "Cloudtail," she meowed after a moment. "You help Daisy back. The rest of us will carry a kit each."

Obediently, Cloudtail offered a flank for Daisy to lean on. She seemed weak and worn-out, something the clan cats hadn't noticed initially. Each of the others grabbed the scruff of a kit, and the unusual party finally started its way back to the camp.

Cloudtail, who was a relatively talkative character when he had nothing else to occupy him, attempted to engage Daisy in some form of conversation. But the she-cat stumbled along next to him and made her way in silence, conserving the bit of energy she had left. Once Cloudtail realized this, he also quieted, although he had as many things to say as leaves on a tree.

After what seemed like a lifetime to Cloudtail, the patrol plus Daisy and her three kits reached the camp. Taking charge of the situation, Thornclaw directed Cloudtail and Spiderleg to take Daisy to the nursery, while Squirrelflight informed Firestar of the newcomers. The three cats carried out their jobs with ease; Spiderleg, for all his protests against Daisy's coming, worked quickly to fetch her a mouse from the pile, as Cloudtail made a makeshift nest out of spare scraps of moss in the nursery. Daisy was soon lying on her side, surrounded by snoozing kits, and nearly dozing off herself.

Noticing a flash of orange, Cloudtail looked up to see Squirrelflight emerge from Firestar's den and slip into the crowd of cats who had seen Daisy's arrival and wanted explanations. Moments later, the ginger leader himself bounded out of the den and onto the highledge, where he addressed the clan with the standard call. "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join here beneath the highledge for a clan meeting!"

The few cats who hadn't already been gathered slipped out from inside dens in expectation. Cloudtail, along with Squirrelflight, Thornclaw, and Spiderleg, lifted his head importantly. After all, he _had _been on the patrol that found an intruder! (No matter how nonthreatening said intruder may have been.)

Firestar began his announcement immediately. "It seems that our hunting patrol found something other than food this time!"

Thornclaw flicked his tail in embarrassment, and Cloudtail knew why. They had completely forgotten about their fresh-kill in the excitement of finding Daisy, and would have to go and fetch it later. Firestar, a flash of amusement gleaming in his eyes, continued, "They found a young queen and her three kits running away from home, and brought them back here."

Surprised glances and murmurs were exchanged within the crowd. No kittypet, loner, or rogue had bothered them for quite some time. Where had she come from?

"She comes from the Horse-place, near the WindClan border," meowed Firestar, sensing the question building within the crowd. But she has no place to go. She cannot go back, for if she does, her kits will be stolen by the twolegs! But the question is: do we offer her our home? Do we teach her the ways of the clan and provide her with food and shelter, in hopes that one day she will become a valued member of ThunderClan?"

"Of course! We need new apprentices, and if we leave her helpless in the wild, we are really no better than ShadowClan!" This was the first opinion, shouted by Brackenfur, a golden-brown tom.

"But she's a useless _kittypet!_ Kittypets will never learn the ways of the wild! I say we drive them out now, before they can learn our secrets!" Now Mousefur, a crabby elder, spoke. Her thoughts seemed shared by many in the clan, but Cloudtail hoped that Firestar wouldn't agree. Cloudtail had made his choice. Who were they to turn away a queen and three healthy kits? And they would be useful; there was only one other queen in the nursery, and the clan desperately needed kits and apprentices.

To Cloudtail's relief, Squirrelflight was one voice that agreed with him. "Suspicious, Mousefur?" she asked. If she had said the same to anyone else, it would have been taunting, but elders, no matter how bitter or unwelcoming, were a well-respected part of the clan. Squirrelflight was only questioning the elder and offering a contradicting opinion. "If she truly is a 'useless kittypet,' as you say, then would she be inclined to share the inner workings of our camp to a hostile clan? Or perhaps a band of other kittypets? No, if she turns out to be useless, then we have nothing to worry about. And if she isn't, she and her kits will be a welcome addition to our clan!"

Cloudtail felt that it was time to add his view on the matter. "And, Mousefur, I'm part kittypet too! You can't agree that all kittypets are soft and useless! Is Firestar useless? Or did you forget that our esteemed leader was once a kittypet too?"

The brown elder ducked her head in submission, and croaked, "I meant no disrespect to our leader, or warriors. I was only voicing my opinion, and I stand by it."

Firestar dipped his head in acknowledgement of the almost-apology, and meowed, "Of course, Mousefur. You are entitled to your opinion, as are we all. However –" Now he projected his voice so that even the cats farthest from the highledge could hear clearly. "I have reached a decision. Daisy may stay in the clan, if she will accept warrior training for herself and her kits. She may leave at any time if she so wishes. Thank you, and that will be all." Firestar turned to return to his den.

"Oh," the leader turned back around to address the clan one more time. "Cloudtail?"

"Yes?" The white warrior couldn't imagine why he was being addressed.

"Someone will need to begin instructing Daisy in the ways of the clan, if she is to stay. That will be your responsibility."

Cloudtail stood dumbly for a moment. "Thank you, Cloudtail." Firestar disappeared from sight.

_Why me?_ _I don't have time to teach a kittype – horseplace cat! Why did Firestar choose me?_

Dismayed, Cloudtail decided to find Brightheart and see what she had to say.

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_**Edit: This is on temporary hiatus (as you can see, future chapters have been deleted). Soon, though, I'll edit all of these chapters and continue this, don't worry! I just can't stand my writing style of a year ago.**_

**AN: Hey guys! If you've read this, then thanks! And I know there are some non-cannon things in here, like how the clan cats had already met Daisy on the journey. It works better here if they hadn't. And of course, the dialogue and stuff isn't exactly the same as in the books, but this is a fanfiction, for StarClan's sake! Review if you'd like! Thanks!**

**-Embersky**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, if you didn't already know, this is being edited. A **_**lot**_**. So if you haven't already, check out chap 1, edited as of Feb 19, 2015. Thanks! And I will do review replies, but only to the people who review this second time around. So if your reply was deleted, know that I still appreciate you guys!**

**Sweetflower0409: Thank you for the review and follow! :)**

**tawnystripe55: Thank you!**

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The beginning of her day was perfectly pleasant. There was nothing to indicate trouble in the near future.

But trouble there was.

She woke, as usual, at the assigning of patrols, when Cloudtail's movement stirred her awake. Not that she minded, of course. She loved her mate very much – sometimes, she thought, more than StarClan itself. It was a pleasure to wake up to the familiar sight of a fuzzy, cloud-like white pelt, and the familiar irritated muttering that always accompanied him when he was dragged out of his nest before the sun was up.

She held completely different feelings about the early mornings. It was a time before most other cats were awake. There was only Brambleclaw, the deputy, and the cats who were chosen for patrols. And once those patrols left, the camp was blissfully quiet.

Without the arrival bright golden sun to shed beaming rays on everything, the only light was the faint crimson glow announcing the coming dawn. That was Brightheart's favorite time of the entire day. There was no one out to gawk at her face – for yes, even moons after _the incident_, there would still be an occasional clanmate caught by surprise at the horrible sight of her torn ear and missing eyes.

But never Cloudtail. That was probably one of the things she loved most about him. Not once did he ever flinch, or gasp, or look away. Instead, he showered her with complements, and not just on her skills. Yes, he praised her hunting, and her kindness, and compassion, and all those things achievable without a particularly comely appearance, but he also whispered to her that she was _beautiful. _Even with the scars, he would say, she was the most beautiful cat in the clan. Not that she ever believed it, but it was nice to know that there was one cat who would never even _think_ of flinching away. Because the others, they all did.

Of course, his views of her appearance weren't the only reason she loved her mate so. He was strong and talented, courageous and kind. He was _absolutely _the best mate that any cat could ask for. But his apathy – no, his downright _fondness _– of her scars was certainly a relief. She felt no bitterness towards her clanmates; how could she, when she herself flinched when faced with her own reflection?

Still, sometimes she needed to be completely alone, in those instances when not even Cloudtail's gentle comfort could sooth her. And Brightheart always found peace in the mornings, where shadows still danced across the ground, and the sky was only colored with streaks of salmon at the horizon.

So it was with a kit-like delight in which Brightheart lethargically followed Cloudtail out, and watched quietly as his patrol left. Judging by the sky's color, she still had a decent amount of time before many other cats would be up. Until then, she was content to sit in the semi-darkness and stare up at the beautiful sky, unbothered by the day's worries.

All too soon, cats began trailing out of the warrior's den – and mentors then impatiently woke the apprentices. Sandstorm, Rainwhisker, Birchpaw… All were never anything but kind to Brightheart, but the mere presence of other cats reminded her of her ear and eye all over again. She hid the sudden emotions behind a gentle smile that was nearly genuine. She made small talk with Leafpool over a thrush. The medicine cat apprentice was of a timid, sympathetic character whom Brightheart got along well with. It seemed that, working as a healer and a connection to StarClan, such matters as a scarred face had ceased to bother the sweet tabby.

However, it was still with slight paranoia that Brightheart observed how every time the she-cat would look at her face, her gaze would dart down to her paws and stay there for several heartbeats. Perhaps it was just Brightheart's instinct to interpret every suspicious action as a judgment of her face, or perhaps Leafpool really was as bothered by it as everyone else. Even Brightheart herself didn't know. The only time she was certain of anything was when Cloudtail was beside her, with endless words of encouragement.

It was with this thought in her head that Brightheart awaited Cloudtail's return from hunting with anticipation and relief. With one part of her conscious, she berated herself for depending so much on Cloudtail – her clanmates really were decent company, and they didn't mean any personal harm, while another part simply _ached _for his return and for the feeling of true contentment that always followed. Finally, the third part of her conscious felt bad for thinking bitterly of Leafpool, and this was the part of her that attempted to follow the conversation and respond appropriately.

Soon enough, Leafpool trailed away with medicine cat duties to attend to: sorting herbs and the like. Brightheart had never comprehended the appeal; it seemed much more wonderful to explore the forest with freedom, or experience the exhilaration of battle.

Of course, there was a time when Brightheart thought that she herself would be destined for the (to her, it seemed) dull, lifeless job. Medicine cats were greatly honored, but to never feel the rush of a fight… It was in a cat's blood. But, a short time after _the incident_, Bluestar (the leader at the time), and even Firestar, who was the deputy, Fireheart, at the time, thought that she would never hunt or fight or patrol again, and that she would be better suited as a healer. Bluestar, who's mind had been warped by the betrayal of her formed deputy, shortly before _the incident_, even renamed her _Lostface_, just to spite StarClan. But it felt more like Bluestar was spiting _her._ Could the leader not see how much it hurt every time her new name was spoken? Was Bluestar so far into madness that she no longer cared that the young warrior began to hate herself for being foolish enough to go along with Swiftpaw? Did she not see how _broken _everything in life felt?

And life did feel broken, until Cloudtail came along. He was the one to restore her shattered, broken confidence. He helped her, guided her, on the path to becoming a warrior. Despite having no experience with such matters, he developed one-eyed fighting and hunting techniques, which finally convinced Firestar to keep her as a warrior, to let her hunt and fight and prove herself once more. Cloudtail gave meaning back into her life, as cliché as it sounded.

The happiest day of her young life had been the day of her once-again renaming. No longer was she Lostface, hideously deformed Lostface, a pitiful, useless creature, defined by her trauma. Then, she was _Brightheart_. Strong, capable, healed Brightheart, who carried her scars as a mark of bravery and sacrifice, as an unfortunate accident that changed her, and not as a symbol of her defeat and failure to save Swiftpaw, her closest friend.

It was Brightheart who became a ThunderClan warrior to be proud of, and Brightheart who became Cloudtail's loving mate and Whitepaw's doting mother. Lostface was gone forever, and she owed that to Cloudtail. _So maybe,_ Brightheart mused. _Maybe it isn't so unreasonable that Cloudtail is my life. My reason for living._

And therefore Brightheart felt no guilt or apprehension at her yearning for Cloudtail's return, even from something such as a hunting patrol, which would only last a half-day, at the very most.

It was with impatience that Brightheart heard the telltale patter of paws on moss that alerted her to the patrol's return – and more importantly, Cloudtail's return. But, strangely enough, there was a new scent that accompanied their arrival. It was the scent of a cat. A cat from outside the clans.

Brightheart's unspoken question was answered when the patrol walked through the thorn barrier, one by one.

_Or_, she mentally corrected herself, _two by two_. For each of the cats was carrying a kit, only, it seemed, perhaps a quarter-moon old. First Squirrelflight came into view, then Thornclaw, then Spiderleg. Brightheart waited with bated breath for the last member. There he was –!

Brightheart blinked. Cloudtail wasn't carrying a newborn kit, like the others. He wasn't carrying anything at all, in fact. Instead, he was supporting a fully-grown, cream-colored she-cat, who was leaning quite weakly on his shoulder. The mother of the kits, perhaps?

But why had they been brought to ThunderClan camp?

Again, her question was answered before she could ask it when the patrol members separated. Squirrelflight broke off and hurried into Firestar's den.

_To tell him about these strangers, _Brightheart realized instantly. _Which means they must intend to stay…_

Perhaps, she reasoned, the patrol had found a mother and her kits with no place for a home, and had brought them back to camp to figure out a solution. It certainly seemed that way; the she-cat was now being made comfortable in the nursery while Firestar was being told of her.

She could nearly predict the commotion that would follow. First, Firestar would summon the clan and make an official announcement. He would ask the clan their opinion on whether the she-cat and her kits would be allowed to stay. Obviously, some members would make reply in the negative and make quite a fuss: why should she, she won't contribute enough, the clan takes in enough outsiders as it is… Their arguments, Brightheart thought, would be predictable and easily solved. Then, some loyal cat would say the opposite: we need more kits, they can learn, we can't leave them to starve… Again, she could easily predict the points, but they would certainly be enough to sway Firestar. Being a former-kittypet-turned-leader himself, there was barely a choice. So Brightheart expected there to be four (if her counting was correct) new additions to the clan within the day.

Brightheart was surprised and secretly smug when it all played out as she had guessed. Mousefur and Squirrelflight arguing, among others, and Firestar's final decision.

Her only shock was when _Cloudtail_ was called up, just when she expected the meeting to be over.

Her mate cautiously approached the leader, who spoke to him swiftly in low tones. The white warrior nodded, as he was expected to, and the cats _finally _dispersed as the meeting was ended.

Long overdue, Cloudtail trotted over to her and purred a greeting. Instantly she felt lighter – lighter even than when she had seen him coming back from the patrol – after what felt like _forever_, she got to be back with her mate. To speak with him, to twine tails; every little gesture, every little moment spent together made her forget the accident, forget Lostface, forget _everything._

Those were the times she cherished; the times that made her remember why every moment without him seemed a moment of torture. She felt that she would be happy as long as he was by her side…just as he was now.

"What was that about?" Her question was somewhere between a breath and a purr, a startlingly accurate reflection of her thoughts.

"Oh," he replied, which was a strange way to begin his response, in Brightheart's opinion, unless he was unhappy with whatever Firestar had told him. Which, as was to become apparent, he was. "Firestar asked me to train Daisy – the queen. Teach her about the warrior code and our other customs, and give her some basic training so she can have her place once the kits are out of the nursery. That sort of thing." Then he let out a self-pitying sigh – and Brightheart didn't blame her mate. It was much harder to train an adult cat to hunt and fight, if they hadn't already started learning at a younger age. And it was even harder to instill the clan's rules into a mind that was already filled with wisdom of its own. In short, training her would be a pain.

But then Brightheart remembered his patience with her – how he always helped her try again, even when she stumbled and fell for the twentieth time, not yet used to her impaired vision. She remembered how much he helped her in those desolate days, and felt confident that he would train this Daisy with just as much compassion as he had with her.

_Well, maybe not _quite_ as much_, she thought with a smirk. _I am his mate, after all._

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**A/N: Ugh. I just can't believe the awfulness of the first published draft of this… anyone who followed/favorited me back then is quite insane… No offense, you know I love you all. :)**

**But hopefully this version is a little better! Even though half of it is just Brightheart's rambling thoughts and angst about life. But please review! **

**-Embersky**


	3. Chapter 3

**No reviews? Shame. But, oh well. At least some people are reading this… I hope…**

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Whitepaw had forever prided herself on never, ever getting particularly upset about any one thing. It wasn't that she didn't care; she was just unexpectedly talented at always keeping calm.

Birchpaw had even dubbed her – with no small amount of envy – 'The Peaceful One.' It had become so common that some of the more distant warriors – the ones who couldn't bother keeping up with who was who – even addressed her as such. Therefore, it was, in some ways, ironically obvious that she would be the cat most shaken up by the events about to take place.

Her day had started out so ordinary that she opted to call it boring before it had even started. Birchpaw, a mischevious bracken-colored tom who also happened to be the only other apprentice, woke her at the crack of dawn to tell her that her mentor, Brackenfur, was waiting. Groaning, she remembered: training session today. And, for some reason that Whitepaw simply couldn't comprehend, he always held training sessions at a ridiculously time of the morning.

"The dawn patrol hasn't even left," she half groaned, prompting Birchpaw's unnecessary laughter. "Quiet," Whitepaw ordered, flicking her tail over his mouth, causing the light brown tabby to splutter. It was their usual morning interaction, and made even the beginning of the day seem awfully mundane.

She hit Birchpaw in the head one more time before leaving; it was never a very good idea to keep Brackenfur waiting.

Honestly, Whitepaw just sort of drifted through the training session. They were reviewing stalking, which, while she found fairly interesting, she had also mastered it moons ago. Whitepaw was by no means a star apprentice, but she learned quickly and did what she was told, and was confident in passing her assessments easily, if not with flying colors. So she felt confident enough to not dedicate all of her mind to the lessons… Especially one as boring as her current one. She just wanted a little spice in her seemingly flavorless life.

Now, she wasn't one of those sentimental dreamers she heard about in the queens' tales who wanted "more" out of their life. She wasn't about to go off into unknown territory in search of some grand adventure.

But still. Some sort of change would be nice – no one ever mentioned a clan cat's life being dull, but it sometimes was.

Oh, she would certainly realize the irony of her wish before the sun had even moved a mouse-length.

It started, she would later recall, when Brackenfur led her back to camp a bit after sunhigh.

Perhaps she should have noticed something was amiss when Brackenfur stopped so abruptly at the thorn barrier that she barely avoided a crash, but, as it was, she was oblivious until Brackenfur finally let her pass and enter the camp.

The first odd thing she noticed was the smell. She scented the milky aroma that always meant there were kits around first. That alone didn't mean anything; it was very possible that a group of tussling kits had rolled too close to the camp barrier, leaving a heavy blanket of their distinctive scent. Then she picked out another smell slightly under the first, which was obviously the cause of her mentor's previous shock. For, nearly blocked out by the familiar scent that always hung around the nursery, was another scent, a sharper one.

The smell of a fully-grown cat that wasn't from ThunderClan.

_A scent_, Whitepaw realized as she concentrated harder,_ that isn't from any of the clans._

No, it was plain and clear, suddenly, that there was a rogue or a loner in camp.

In other, simpler words, an intruder.

Brackenfur, obviously following her same train of thought, told her to stay put in a few muttered words, then hurried to Firestar's den, in what Whitepaw thought was uncalled-for urgency. After all, wasn't this exactly what she had been secretly hoping for all day (and quite a bit of time before that)? Besides, the chances of the intruder being dangerous and unguarded were slim; some cat had to have noticed.

When Brackenfur emerged from Firestar's den a few heartbeats after he arrived, he didn't turn in her direction like she expected, but instead made his way over to the nursery. When he didn't spare her a glance, she decided that she must have been overlooked in favor of his mate, the heavily pregnant Sorreltail. Not that Whitepaw minded, but she _did _want to know what was going on, and perhaps be part of any excitement currently happening.

It was with this purpose clearly in mind that she entered the camp fully and began scouting for answers. She didn't feel particularly guilty – yes, Brackenfur had told her to stay put, but that had been when the potential for danger was still very real. And, since he had apparently forgotten about her, there couldn't be anyone dangerous in the camp.

Maybe she would try the elders' den… They loved to gossip, and always seemed to make a point to know anything important that happens. But, as she neared the thick bush that made up the elders' home, she heard a _very_ familiar voice muttering from inside.

Mousefur, the brown elder and the secret nightmare of the apprentices and young warriors, was, as usual, complaining about something or another. Whitepaw could only hope is wasn't the nests – she _would _have changed them yesterday, but she had stayed out late hunting and was too exhausted when she returned. She, like half the clan, dreaded the wiry she-cat's sharp tongue, especially when it was directed at her.

Leaning closer to hear and praying to the whole of StarClan that she wasn't the cause of Mousefur's ire, she only just managed to pick up on a few muttered strings of words.

"_Worthless_ little kittypet…corrupting the clan! She'd better…and those bratty little kits!"

Whitepaw had heard enough to piece together what must be going on, almost the way she would shift fallen leaves and twigs to form a whole picture. Was the intruder some kittypet who had wandered into the clan, perhaps bringing a litter of kits with her? If so, that would explain why Brackenfur had made a beeline for the nursery; he had always wanted to be first to know what was going on in the clan.

Whitepaw, coming to this conclusion, hurriedly backed away from the elders' den. Sure, she had plenty of questions formed from this discovery, but whenever Mousefur felt particularly grumpy, she had learned to stay away.

Next, perhaps the warriors' den. None of the warriors were quite so unwelcoming as Mousefur, so she had little fear of being driven away. And, hopefully, the few warriors that scared her nearly as much as Mousefur would all be too busy discussing whatever had happened – strangely enough, the meaner warriors all seemed to have quite a penchant for gossip.

Her theory was proven correct when she tentatively entered the den, and was immediately confronted with chaos that made her ears flatten instinctively.

It wasn't the battle type of chaos, where cats fought cats and no one could distinguish a friend from a foe.

No, it was the type of chaos where every cat present spoke at once, and words and phrases blurred into each other in an undistinguishable muddle of sound. Where the same story was told twenty different times, and each story had slightly altered details. It was the type of chaos that Whitepaw herself had never experienced, having only Birchpaw as a companion in the near-empty apprentices' den.

So it was with great caution that Whitepaw picked her way around the outskirts of the huddled cats. As she had predicted, the senior warriors paid her no heed, and the younger ones acknowledged her with a mere nod or tail-flick. Finally, she spotted the distinctive ginger-and-white pelt of her mother near the back.

Brightheart wasn't filling the air with aimless gossip like the rest of them. Instead, she surveyed the scene before her with a knowing smile on her face.

"Brightheart?" Whitepaw's greeting brought her mother's attention.

"Yes, Whitepaw? Is there something you need?"

"Well…" Whitepaw suddenly wasn't all that sure how to begin. Would it sound too nosy to ask for information straight out?

After an awkward moment of silence, she supposed that she _had _to ask if she ever wanted answers. "What happened here? Is there an intruder? I heard the elders – well, Mousefur – complaining about a 'kittypet.' And I think she mentioned something about–"

"Hold on," Brightheart interjected, her voice tinted with amusement. "If you give me that many questions at once, you'll never get a response. Let's start from the beginning."

Whitepaw blinked, waiting for Brightheart to continue.

"Yes, there is someone new in the camp, though I wouldn't call her an 'imposter.' She was brought here by the dawn patrol, with her three kits. There was a clan meeting, where Firestar decided she would be allowed to stay in ThunderClan, provided she try to learn our ways. Mousefur, as you can guess, wasn't all that pleased, but there was an argument and Squirrelflight put her in her place. Daisy – that's the name of the she-cat – is in the nursery now, I think."

"Wait – so we have a new member of the clan?" All this had happened without her even knowing about it?

"Pretty much," her mother agreed, her voice lilting downwards with a small, barely-noticeable sigh.

"And…are you not happy about that?" Whitepaw wondered if that little sigh had been nothing more than her over-active imagination. After all, Brackenfur always scolded her (gently, of course) for daydreaming during training.

"Oh!" At first, Brightheart just seemed surprised at Whitepaw's observation. "Not exactly," she amended, after scrutinizing her daughter for another long moment. "It's nothing, I suppose. The clan needs new kits, with only Sorreltail and Ferncloud in the nursery. And she certainly seems nice enough, from what I've seen. It's just… It's just nothing, Whitepaw, thank you. Now, why don't you see if Birchpaw wants to share prey with you?"

Whitepaw blinked, attempting to follow the abrupt – was that a dismissal? From her sweet mother, Brightheart?

It was.

Brightheart had something she didn't want to talk about. Whitepaw was almost certain of it.

Except, then, Brightheart gave her a genuine grin, and Whitepaw wasn't anymore. Because she had never seen a worse liar than her mother – if Brightheart smiled, she was happy. If she wasn't, the smile would transform her face into a gruesome grimace, only made worse by her lack of a right eye and ear.

Put simply, Brightheart was being sincere. Whatever thought had been weighing on her mind had dissipated, for now.

But, if she hadn't been imagining things, it had been bothering her mother. And it could bother her again. So Whitepaw, being the caring daughter she was, was going to find out what it was, StarClan willing or not. And she would get rid of it.

Her only lead was that it had to do with the kittypet, Daisy.

_I'll start by going to the nursery and talking to her. I'll start right now!_

"Whitepaw? Where are you?"

_Or, maybe I'll start after eating with Birchpaw._

"Here!" She called, in the general direction of where Birchpaw's voice was coming from.

After all, it was about the time when cats would begin eating, and, however loyal she may be to her family, she was still an apprentice, and therefore, cared about food quite a bit more than she should. Daisy could wait. She wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, not with kits to take care of.

She waved her tail in a goodbye to her mother, and left to find Birchpaw. The glossy brown apprentice was waiting near the fresh-kill pile with a squirrel in his jaws. When she neared, he dropped it at her paws. "I'd thought we'd share," he meowed with a tentative smile.

"Sure," she agreed easily. "So… What do you think of Daisy?" she asked, after swallowing a mouthful of tender meat.

Birchpaw thought for a moment, his ears twitching slightly in a way that she thought was cute. "I…I'm not sure. I mean, I haven't actually met her, or anything. But I definitely think that Firestar made the right decision. How could we leave her and her kits to starve?"

And then he grinned, and Whitepaw was reminded of his troublemaker side. "And…who knows? We might even have denmates, eventually!"

Whitepaw secretly shared his eagerness – sometimes it was nice to have so much space to herself, but whenever Birchpaw was out of camp, it got rather eerie, being the only cat in such a spacious den.

But, as she thought about it, the possibility slimmed. "Though," she reminded him. "We'll probably both become warriors in another couple of moons. So, unless her kits are nearly six moons already, it'd be unlikely that we'll end up sharing a den with them. Still, though. We can hope.

"Unless, of course," she added, suddenly feeling playful. "You end up doing something mouse-brained that delays our warrior ceremonies, like, say, taking all the prey out of camp and dumping it in the river!"

Birchpaw narrowed his eyes and lashed his tail into her flank. "Hey! That was a one-time thing! And it wasn't even my fault! How was I supposed to know that Squirrelflight was joking when she told me that all the fresh-kill had gotten green-cough and had to be purified by StarClan in the river?

Whitepaw stifled a laugh and responded, "Well, have you ever heard of_ prey _getting green-cough? I mean, they can have maggots and they can become crow-food, but _fresh prey_? Really?"

"Well, it was the day after I became an apprentice. I didn't know – kits aren't told anything!"

"Still…" Whitepaw noticed that, somewhere in that conversation, they had finished off their squirrel. In that case… "Anyway, I'm going to visit the nursery now…" She flashed a final amused smirk at Birchpaw. "Don't get into too much trouble when I'm gone!" She stalked off smugly, proud to have the last word.

"What– Hey!" She grinned but didn't respond as his indignant shout followed her to the nursery.

Whitepaw wasn't actually sure what she was going to achieve by talking to Daisy, but it was possible that she'd talked to Brightheart or something and had some more information on her mother's behavior.

Or so she hoped. Because, if not, she'd better start praying to StarClan for answers.

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**A/N: Hi! Um… Well, I don't love this chapter, but I'd really appreciate it if whoever was reading would review. It's not that hard; just click the button! Anyone can do it! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! Thank you, as usual, for reading, and a special thanks to:**

**FanficTo-A-T: Haha, that description was pretty accurate. Thank you for reviewing, and, by the way, I love your username!**

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She knew that she was supposed to adore every little thing about them and all, but, _honestly_, Daisy was cold and she was weary and _would they ever stop that crying?_

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she made the decision while sitting in a warm nest, with her kits sleeping peacefully and being decidedly _un-annoying._ And, once she spent more than a few heartbeats in the brisk Leaf-fall wind, she was certain that her original choice to leave (and with _kits_ as well) hadn't been thought out at all.

Of course, she couldn't and wouldn't return. Sure, the high-pitched, constant squeaking got on her already-frayed nerves more that the chill ever could, and sure, she had perhaps made her decision too quickly, but the original problem still stood.

She had to get away.

Not for her sake, of course. Sure, it stung a bit, watching Smoky and Floss flaunt their love so soon after Smoky had been _her_ mate, but she could survive. It was her kits' lives that Daisy feared for.

She watched in half-hearted concern as the tiny figures stumbled once again, unaccustomed to such a long journey.

Sure, she cared for her kits very much, but didn't the little furballs understand that this journey was for their own good? Did they want to be taken away by greedy nofurs, to spend a life slaving away catching mice in some faraway barn? But of course not. They were too young to understand anything like that, even if she explained it as clearly as they could. At just a bit over a moon old, they could only string together the simplest of words, and their understanding went no deeper than milk and sleep.

Right now, they wanted sleep. Even as she nudged them onwards through the spiky brambles, they protested to her cold, forceful nose with desperate, tired mewls. It was only when her smallest kit (for she hadn't given them names yet – best not to get too attached in case the nofurs _did_ find them) curled up into a stubborn little ball of fuzz on the ground, unwilling to take another step, that she relented.

When she stopped short, her dappled gray tom-kit asked as best he could, "We sleep now? Where's barn?"

Realizing that she wouldn't be able to get the kits to continue unless she carried them, Daisy answered reluctantly. "Fine, you can sleep now. But we won't be going back to the barn any time soon. Think of it as an adventure!"

Appeased, the kit muttered, "Adventure…" and curled up next to his sister.

Well, it didn't look like they would be getting any farther until next morning, especially as her third kit, the only one who shared her coloring, parted his jaws in a yawn so massive that it didn't fit his petite frame.

Resigned to stay the night, she efficiently pulled up a bit of the tough, stringy grass that grew on the moorland to make a nest of, but she rejected it in favor of simply curling up around her kits and sleeping on the bare ground.

However, with jagged clumps of soil and grass underneath her, even the reassuring sound of her kits' breathing couldn't lull her to sleep quickly enough. Perhaps that ended up as a good thing, though, for even as she squirmed discreetly, torn between trying to get comfortable and not wanting to wake her kits, she heard voices. And they were very close.

"And this, Weaselpaw, is where ThunderClan marked their border. You can smell it, that moldy stink of the forest, can't you? Remember it well; you will more than likely fight these cats one day. If any of those mangy squirrel-eaters trespasses, well, you know what to do, right, Weaselpaw?"

A second, less mature voice that could only belong to this "Weaselpaw" responded eagerly, "Of course! We'll rip the fur off their flanks and chase them until their paws bleed!"

There were certainly several things Daisy heard that she didn't understand, but there were also several things that she could. _Trespassers_ was one example. _Fight, rip, chase, bleed._

In other words, bad news. A sign that she should run as far and as fast as possible.

But she couldn't leave her kits, not after all she had gone through to protect them.

"C'mon, kits! Time to wake up! How about we play a little game?" It was whispered so quietly that it was a wonder they heard.

One by one, agonizingly slowly, each kit blinked awake. Somehow, though they were half asleep and were only, after all, a moon and a few days old, they still each had the capacity to look at her like she was insane. If the situation had been different, Daisy might've laughed, but, in their current predicament, she just used her tail to boost them into standing.

The voices were getting louder, and still discussing _terribly violent_ things, and now Daisy could even smell a scent to connect to the sounds. It was a sort of dull, muted scent that just reminded her of the air on a breezy day. But, whatever they smelled like, she definitely didn't want the owners of that scent to find her.

What could she do…? She could hide, she supposed, but the only available places on the flat, endless ground were inside prickly thorn bushes, and she didn't want her eyes scratched out, thank you very much! Besides, they would probably scent her, and then she would be nothing but trapped prey. She could run, but that would be the most difficult option, with three slow, helpless kits to escort. Or, she could fight. That would certainly be the easiest option to get into, but after that? She was as good as dead, if the cats' discussions were any hint of how they fought. And, again, she would have to defend her kits as well. None of her options stood out as particularly appealing.

Oh, but there was one more. She could always try begging. It had worked on Floss or Smoky a few times, when she wanted the best piece of prey, or a companion for a stroll. If her past was any indication, she was rather talented at getting others to do what she wanted.

It was a risky bet, especially since these were wild cats that she was dealing with, and were therefore vicious and unpredictable, but it was also the way that seemed the least likely to get her killed.

As the precious heartbeats ticked by, she prepared herself both physically and mentally. First, she carefully flattened out any of her fur that may have risen out of fear. Eyes wide, but not enough to make her look particularly strange. Tail and ears half-lowered. She had to look meek without seeming like a scaredy-cat. Contrary to what Floss seemed to believe, things like this took time, effort, and skill. She didn't get cats to help her by sitting still and acting mouse-brained.

Okay, she just had to pretend to be speaking to some cat she knew. It was only Smoky, and she was trying to persuade him to let her eat the plumpest, freshest mouse in the barn. It was that simple.

All of that took a few heartbeats at most – she still hadn't been caught yet. And it was better that she approach first. If she didn't act at that instant, they would find her before she wanted them to. Releasing a deep breath, she stepped out from the cluster of brambles that had been shielding her, just as the cat who was named "Weaselpaw" cried, "Intruders! I can smell them!"

"Oh, please don't hurt me," she started, before even looking at who she was talking too. There were two tomcats. The smaller, younger one, who she guessed was Weaselpaw, had a startlingly ginger-striped pelt, with just as brilliantly shining white paws. The older cat, the one who seemed to be some sort of instructor to Weaselpaw, was lean and wiry, with a barbed pelt the color of storms.

Hopefully they wouldn't be too difficult to convince.

"I didn't realize other cats already lived here! It's just… my poor kits… we have nowhere to stay, and I'm afraid they'll freeze if I can't find them shelter soon…"

With that, she flattened one ear and looked down, as though in sadness. She was expecting, perhaps, murmurs of sympathy or maybe an offer to stay the night. What she wasn't expecting, however, was a muttered, "Your charm won't work on us, trespasser. What did I teach you to do to intruders, Weaselpaw?"

She gulped…she knew what would come next. The ginger tom's eyes sparked. "Drive. Them. Away." With each word, he stepped closer, and despite his youth and size, he made an intimidating figure.

Daisy was not at all ashamed to admit that she turned tail in that instant and fled. She spared a few valuable heartbeats to grab the she-kit in her jaws, and bid her sons to hang on to her tail with their teeth.

She was being pursued, she could tell, but, even with the weight of three kits to drag along, they hadn't caught her yet. And the wild cats had very lithe builds – all the better for speed. Perhaps her pleading hadn't been pointless after all; if they hadn't caught her and killed her yet, it was most logical to assume that they were reluctant to harm a defenseless queen and her kits.

But she couldn't count on that to last forever. She had to escape to a place that gave some semblance of safety, at the very least.

For the moment, that place was simply forward.

She didn't know how long they stumbled forward – it seemed like days, but it couldn't have been long, as the wild cats were still close behind, but never quite catching up.

Her legs faltered and gave up when something popped up ahead of them. It was a flowing creek – smaller and less menacing than an actual river, but more swollen than a stream or brook.

It stretched past the horizons of her vision, with no ending in sight. She couldn't go around it, and she couldn't stay put. The two cats chasing her had been merciful so far, but eventually their patience would snap. Whether or not it was true that they lined their nest with the bones of other cats and could turn into lions at will, she wouldn't be the one to find out.

That meant that crossing the water would be her only option. It didn't look that deep, and the water was relatively clear instead of the murky swirls she would expect. Still, it wasn't exactly her first choice. It was already rather cold out, and at least some of what she had told the wild cats was true – if she didn't find warm shelter soon, she and her kits would undoubtedly freeze to death.

Taking a deep breath just in case, she gathered her kits close to her – the current didn't look that strong from the banks, but she could never be sure – and plunged into the water. To her surprise and relief, even the deepest sections only reached up to her neck, but she took pains to keep her kits' heads above the water, and the creek's icy currents tugged uncomfortably at her sodden fur.

It took her no time at all to reach the land on the other side, and she had crossed safely, only a bit worse for wear. Still, it was enough that she wondered if she would be able to go on much farther. But she would have to – they were still right behind her –!

She whirled around. Her pursuers were standing side-by-side in the far side of the bank. Weaselpaw poked a tentative paw into the water, but received a cuff and a hiss from the other cat. He twitched his ears crossly and shouted to her, "And don't come back, kittypet!"

_Kittypet_? And now that she thought about it, hadn't they mentioned the word "ThunderClan" somewhere while hissing at her?

What was it with these cats and their strange terminology? From what she could tell, they had called _her _a kittypet. She didn't know what that implied, but it certainly sounded like an insult. She couldn't even begin to guess at what the other word mean, but she was more concerned with why she wasn't being chased still.

It seemed like, by crossing the creek, she had unknowingly exited the territory of the wild cats, and so she was no longer, in their eyes, a trespasser. And, now that she thought about it, the scent there was different, too. It was low and sweet and full of life, so different from the moor cats' scents. It was only proof that they wouldn't – or couldn't – get to her there.

With that thought came crushing relief, as well as exhaustion. Her kits, too, woken so quickly from their slumber to take part in an unorthodox chase, were beyond tiredness.

In the back of her mind, she noted the sunset paint streaks of color across the sky, and the last few crimson leaves swaying as they clung to the branches that formed an arc above her. She let sleep's embrace take her for the night.

* * *

It seemed like only heartbeats later that she opened her eyes, but the morning sun wavered in clear dawn light. She felt impossibly rested, as though she had only been asleep for a few short moments, and had, in that time, been completely recharged and stripped of all her former exhaustion.

Well, she'd better make use of her newfound energy while it lasted. She poked the tip of her tail into each of her kits' flanks, and they squirmed and growled in protest, but it did the job. Three pairs of eyes opened blearily and focused on her.

"Okay, now that we've all had a long night's sleep, let's get going! There's new territory to scout!"

Daisy forced the words to come out cheerful, and the kits bought into it like any fully-grown cat wouldn't have. All three of them chirped as eagerly as the morning songbirds.

She wasn't at all looking forward to another long day of hiking that would likely be pointless anyway, but at least now she was pretty sure they weren't accidentally invading on another cat's land.

She fought to get her mind in order; where should she begin to get things done?

Hunting – that was always a good starting point. It was never enjoyable to work on an empty stomach.

As her kits stretched luxuriously, fur in unruly clumps, in the way kits' fur so often it, she examined their surroundings.

She would need a place to conceal her kits while she hunted – she didn't _think_ there were other cats around, but she could never be sure, and her kits would cause a ruckus and scare off the prey if she allowed them to come.

Not that she had much hope of a bountiful catch anyway. It was nearing the end of leaf-fall, and, besides, mice were much easier to hunt if they were trapped in a barn with no escape route. She wasn't used to hunting outside; she had only tried it twice, and both times had ended in disaster involving nofur pelts and crow-food. It wasn't an experience she wanted to encounter for the third time, although there didn't seem to be any nofurs (or their pelts) nearby.

And she had to try. Better to get herself into potentially embarrassing situations (mostly because there weren't any other cats around to witness) and be able to feed her kits, than play it safe but have them all starve.

In the midst of her rather self-deprecating thoughts, her cream tom-kit had marched up to match her nose-to-nose.

"Where're we goin'?" he asked, with an air of self-importance, as though he was on a mission assigned to him by his littermates. "We need to fight?"

Daisy stifled a sigh. "I hope not, but, if we do, you get your littermates out of the way to safety, all right?"

The kit nodded solemnly, charged with his very important mission. He scampered back to the others, head held high with pride. Daisy laughed, grateful to have something, for the moment, to be amused about. It was a pleasant reminder that her situation was never as bleak as she made it out to be.

Still, there was work that needed to be done, and prey that needed to be caught if they ever wanted to continue. She herded the kits under a nearby bramble bush, and bid them to stay there and rest until she returned. She wasn't exactly confident in their obedience, but they were still worn out from the continuous journey, and didn't seem likely to wander off in the short time that she would be gone.

The phrase "short time," as she soon found out, would be entirely false when describing her hunting. Her unwillingness and lack of skill made it seem like, to her, all the prey disappeared into thin air. She tried, first, to look for scrabbling mice among the tree roots in an oak glade, but the only one she managed to find darted into its burrow when she brushed over some rustling leaves. She didn't find many birds, and, frankly, she wasn't very accustomed to tree climbing. She found herself in an undignified heap on the ground multiple times after slipping off an unstable branch or two.

The sun had moved a few mouselengths when she found herself staggering back to her kits, empty-pawed and a bit bedraggled. She approached the bush where she had left them, and was relieved when she could scent all three of them still there, despite the unexpected length of time she had been gone for.

She began to call them out of their resting place when nearby voices chilled her heart with dread.

_More cats?_

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**A/N: Just so you know, the original draft of this chapter was nearly twice as long, so I split it in two. Meaning a second Daisy POV chapter is coming soon! Review!**


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